


The Ancient Art of (Ancient) Linguistics

by Skyuni123



Series: Tumblr is a Bad Influence [1]
Category: Stargate SG-1
Genre: Gen, Humor, Languages and Linguistics, Vignette, translations
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-17
Updated: 2018-03-17
Packaged: 2019-04-01 12:38:52
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 806
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13998519
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Skyuni123/pseuds/Skyuni123
Summary: Daniel explains how translating ancient texts actually works.(It's funnier than it sounds.)(based offthistumblr post)





	The Ancient Art of (Ancient) Linguistics

PX1-849 is flat, dry, and  _ hot.  _ The planet’s twin suns hang high in the sky, and they are unbiased in their fury. Jack O’Neill is fairly sure he’s sweating in places he’s never felt before, and in this line of work, he’s definitely sweated a hell of a lot. 

 

So yeah, it’s hot.

 

Daniel Jackson doesn’t seem to notice it, but then again, he doesn’t seem to notice much when he’s concentrating on stone tablets, bits of artifacts, or any other kind of weird historical relic that the universe throws at him. 

 

This stone door is no exception. 

A vast temple rises out of the sand behind it. From the scans they’d done, it appeared that the rest of the planet was deserted, so the command had only felt it necessary to send Daniel and one member of SG-1 for backup.

Sam had just been sent a whole lot of data from the Atlantis mission, so she’d made her excuses. Teal’c had also managed to get out of it.

 

So it’s just Jack, trapped in a sandy hell, with only Daniel for company.

And he cares for Daniel, really, he does, but this is also his own personal hell and he’d rather be anywhere else in the universe other than this.

 

Jack leans against the stone wall next to the stone door and asks, with about as politeness as he can muster, “Daniel?” (It’s not quite a whine, but it’s getting there.)

 

“Yes, Jack?” Daniel doesn’t look up. Color him surprised.

 

“You… making any progress on that thing? We’ve probably got a few hours of -... hell, I would make up an excuse, but really I’m just bored.”

 

“Translating takes time, Jack.”

 

“I know it does. Sitting on my ass and not doing anything takes time, too, but it’s way less productive.”

 

“If you talked less I’d probably get more translating done.” Daniel snarks, but there’s no malice in it. “Why don’t you… uh… patrol the perimeter, or do something equally as military as that?”

 

“Mmmm, I could, if there was a perimeter to patrol.” Jack leans over, sweat dripping wildly off his forehead, and points at a random line of crocodile symbols on the door. “What does that say?”

 

Daniel huffs. “Really?”

 

“Really really. Tell me. I wanna know.” That’s only about half-true, but it beats staring out into deserty nothingness.

 

Daniel huffs again. “Okay. Tell me when you get bored. It says “come you followers” - maybe it’s followers, it could be sycophants - “of Sobek into the sacred” - that might be sacred, although it could also be tormented, depends on usage - “into the sacred temple. May you give your”… treasures? Skin? Loved ones? “To his holiness” - and honestly, ‘his’ is most likely actually a genderless term - and I-”

 

“What the hell, Daniel.” This doesn’t sound anything like the Daniel he knows. Daniel always seems so sure of his translations, so willing to take everything at face value. “What’s going on?”

 

Daniel’s still rambling. “I know that’s really long-winded and all, but I’m not actually sure of what it means. It could be instructions on how to get into this temple, but it could also be a dick joke. I’m actually leaning towards dick joke, although it might be both. Knowing who wrote it, probably both. This could very well be an ancient penis temple and we should probably leave.”

 

“What the  _ HELL,  _ Daniel?” Jack’s actually a little bit worried about his friend now. “Please tell me you’re not having a stroke. Can you smell burned toast?”

 

Daniel stops, grasps Jack gently on the shoulder and says, “You wanted the translation.”

 

“I wanted a  _ translation -  _ I didn’t want whatever  _ that  _ was.”

 

“You do know that most of the things I translate are like that, right? Long-winded, completely crazy - I’m translating dialects from thousands of years ago, most of which have changed over time. I’m just getting really good at guessing.”

 

“Holy shit.” Jack breathes, actually kinda surprised. “Really?”

 

“Really.” Daniel pats him on his shoulder, in a way that’s actually little bit patronising. "You know the word ‘draft’ has four different meanings in English?”

 

“Yeah…?”

 

“Now imagine trying to translate something that has four different meanings into English, and that is also in crocodile hieroglyphs. Takes a bit of time, yeah?”

 

“No kidding.” This is a whole new world to him. “I should… probably leave you alone then?”

 

“Go and walk the perimeter. Save us both from sand snakes.” Daniel drops his hand and turns back to the sandy door.

 

“Sand snakes?” Jack’s not even sure that Daniel’s kidding.

 

“Yeah, sand snakes. Says so right here.” Daniel points at a group of crocodiles grouped around a sun. “Although it  _ could  _ mean sand genitalia, with ‘snakes’ just being a euphemistic term for them, but I’d really hope we wouldn’t come across sand…”

 

Jack goes to walk the perimeter. 

**Author's Note:**

> hit me up on the [ tumbs ](http://villianousfilmmaker.tumblr.com)


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